The First Shave
Guest Blogger: A. Jones I remember the yellow and black canister like it was yesterday. A pungent odor of rotten eggs hung in the air as my father mixed the shaving powder with cold water in a shallow powder blue bowl. I’d noticed his morning ritual in passing, but this was the first time I studied his actions, knowing that my turn was coming. He walked me through preparing the mixture, application, and removal. I was intrigued by the slow and deliberate way he progressed through this ritual. He talked about learning to use a safety razor, shaving cream, and brush from his Dad. I suspect that the new routine he was teaching me was adopted as his way of...